Chapter 11 Sophomore Year
Song Ting didn't lead her out of the alley, but instead walked inside. After a while, he stopped in front of a courtyard gate and knocked on the door: "Biaozi, open the door."
"Who is it?" a voice came from inside the room.
"Song Ting."
Soon a little boy came running and opened the gate. Biaozi, who had set up a mahjong game at home, asked Song Ting, "What's wrong?"
"Borrow my motorcycle."
"The key is on the cabinet." After saying that, he continued to draw cards.
Song Ting picked up the motorcycle keys from the cabinet and picked out a helmet from among several others and tossed it to Nanjiu. Nanjiu looked at the cartoon helmet and said speechlessly, "Is this his son's?"
Song Ting turned back, took the helmet from her hand, and put it on her head: "Just right."
"......" Nan Jiu reluctantly locked the lock and asked Song Ting, "Why don't you drive?"
“The car can’t get in.”
Song Ting got on the motorcycle parked at the door and called her, "Get on."
Nan Jiu sat in the back, holding onto the rear handlebars. The scooter weaved between alleys and then onto the main road, spanning almost half of South City.
Nan Jiu shouted into the wind, "Do you have to run so far just to eat a duck head?"
As soon as he finished speaking, Song Ting tilted his body slightly and turned his motorcycle into an unfamiliar alley.
South City's nights are like two completely different worlds: scorching hot during the day, but pleasantly cool at night. Locomotives occasionally pass over arched bridges, low-lying houses nestle on either side of a stream, and the night breeze whistles past my ears, blowing away my anxieties.
The crisscrossing alleys formed a complex maze. Song Ting held the handlebars of the motorcycle and came to a night stall with ease.
He greeted the boss. The boss looked at him for a long time before recognizing him: "You haven't been here for a long time, how are you now?"
"Very good." Song Ting replied with a smile.
He found an empty table and asked Nanjiu to sit first while he went to the side and bought two duck heads. The boss brought out pot stickers and wontons and said to Song Ting, "Since you can rarely come by now, I'll give you two extra pot stickers. Ask for more if you need more." Song Ting thanked him.
Nanjiu had already lost interest after waiting so long to eat the duck head. However, after taking her first bite, her interest was rekindled. The duck head here was just as good as the one in the braised food shop in Maoer Lane, and even better because of the slightly sweet taste.
"How did you find this place?" Nan Jiu asked after taking a sip of wonton soup.
Song Ting raised his chin: "There's a school outside that alley. I used to study there."
Nan Jiu thought of Song Ting's past and asked, "High school?"
"Yeah." He responded, seemingly unwilling to say more.
Nan Jiu's sight extended to the end of the alley. The short alley was probably the past that Song Ting could never return to in his lifetime.
Nan Jiu lowered her eyes and heard Song Ting ask her, "What's going on between you and your cousin?"
"It's nothing serious. We played together when we were kids, but things got strained as adults, and he started using sarcasm when talking to me."
"You shouldn't interfere in adults' affairs."
"You should tell him this." Nan Jiu said unhappily.
"Okay." Song Ting pulled the pot stickers in front of her.
Nan Jiu raised her eyebrows, thinking that he would continue to say a few words to her, but she didn't expect him to agree so readily.
She curled her lips, feeling a little more relaxed. The delicious aroma of duck heads and wood-fired wontons melted into the night, a unique flavor found in the alleys of South City, evoking memories of Nanjiu's carefree childhood. Back then, her parents hadn't divorced yet, and she still had a family.
On the way back, Nan Jiu kept urging Song Ting to ride faster. Song Ting ignored her and continued riding as usual, turning a heavy motorcycle into an electric scooter.
She patted the iron bones under her and said, "What a waste of such a powerful bike. If you can't do it, I'll ride it."
She desperately tried to get Song Ting to stop, twisting and turning her body. Song Ting's knuckles tightened, and he pressed the accelerator. The car accelerated violently with a low roar.
Nan Jiu exclaimed, lowering his body, his eyes shining with excitement.
Turning the corner, Song Ting swiftly leaned his body, shifting his weight to one side, and cut the corner with pinpoint accuracy. The exhaust pipe blasted out a scorching wave of air, and the car's body angled in a smooth and dangerous arc. Nan Jiu's heart raced in front, his soul chasing after him. The car suddenly accelerated, and Song Ting tilted his head and said, "Hold on tight."
Nan Jiu immediately gripped Song Ting's waist. The car rushed toward the arch bridge. Unlike the way they came, the speed of the car tore through the wind wall. The gradient briefly lifted Nan Jiu's body off the seat. Her heart suddenly burst through her throat, then was forced back into her chest by inertia. She subconsciously tightened her arms, tightly wrapping around Song Ting's strong waist and abdomen. Through the thin layer of material, the taut, powerful muscles were the only thing she could cling to.
Nan Jiu was certain Song Ting must have done this many times before, to have mastered his technique so well. She felt as if she were walking through the darkness, experiencing his passionate youth.
The car jumped off the arch bridge and gradually slowed down. Song Ting turned around and asked her, "Is it fun?"
Nanjiu's adrenaline surged, his burning pupils framing his profile in his eyes: "Exciting."
"Can you let go now?"
Nan Jiu retracted his arm and did not put it back on the armrest, but just held it on Song Ting's waist.
Song Ting lowered his eyes and glanced at her clenched fists, which were turning white. The words that asked her to take her hands away came to his lips, but he swallowed them back.
......
Mr. Nan was in a bad mood after returning because his old friend was in poor health, so he went straight back to his room.
Song Ting parked his motorcycle in front of the teahouse and asked Nan Jiu to go back first while he returned the motorcycle.
Nan Jiu walked through the main room and just opened the door to the side room. Nan Qiaoyu was lying on her bed in shorts and a T-shirt, legs crossed, with his luggage and belongings scattered all over the floor.
Nanjiu's blood boiled, he walked into the room and stared at the person on the bed: "Get out!"
Nan Qiaoyu leaned against the headboard, playing a mobile game, and glanced at her indifferently: "Why did you ask me to leave?"
"This is my room."
Nan Qiaoyu's face darkened. "Nan Jiu, get this straight. This is Grandpa's teahouse, not your father, Nan Zhendong's. Stop arguing about your territory here. I'm sleeping here tonight. What can you do to me?"
Without a word, Nan Jiu grabbed Nan Qiaoyu's hair and dragged him under the bed. Nan Qiaoyu threw away the game console, grabbed Nan Jiu's wrist and tried to twist it. Nan Jiu jumped onto the bed in pain and kicked Nan Qiaoyu fiercely. Nan Qiaoyu yelled, "Let go of me, I just did your hair."
Nanjiu gritted his teeth and said, "That's perfect. I'll pluck your hair out and see how you act."
Neither of them would give in, and they wrestled fiercely.
Song Ting heard the noise as soon as he entered the teahouse. He turned and headed to the side room. At that time, Mr. Nan was also awakened by the noise and opened the door.
Nan Jiu and Nan Qiao Yu, one pulling the hair and the other pinching the neck, looked like they wanted to kill each other.
Song Ting strode forward, grasping Nan Qiaoyu's thin arm and forcibly separating him from Nan Jiu. Nan Jiu clenched his fists, glanced at Song Ting, and stood against the wall, not attacking again. Nan Qiaoyu looked unconvinced, the throbbing pain in his scalp only making him more furious. He pointed at Nan Jiu and tried to move forward.
Song Ting lifted him up by the waist and threw him to the other side. Nan Qiaoyu's body suddenly flew into the air, his heart hanging in the air. His feet landed on the ground, and his back hit the wall. The overwhelming strength made him feel apprehensive. His eyes shifted from Nan Jiu to Song Ting, his eyes full of caution.
Old Man Nan walked over with his cane. Seeing the mess in the room, he banged his cane on the floor: "Everyone, come out."
......
In the middle of the teahouse, Old Man Nan sat on a chair. Song Ting was looking through Nan Jiuji's account books at the counter.
Nan Jiu and Nan Qiaoyu stood in front of Old Man Nan, three meters between them. Old Man Nan's lips turned pale with anger at these two wicked grandchildren. He scolded them angrily, "When you were little, you fought and I said you were ignorant. Now that you're grown up, you're still fighting. Aren't you ashamed to tell others about it?"
Old Man Nan glanced at Nan Jiu. Two bruises marked her arms, like they'd been bruised during a scuffle, but otherwise her hair and clothes were in good shape. Then he looked at Nan Qiaoyu. His hair was a mess, piling up against his scalp. There were nail marks on his neck and arms, and his collar was torn and hung loosely from his shoulders. Seeing his condition, Old Man Nan couldn't help but feel angry.
When they were little, they often fought over food. Nan Qiaoyu would attack Nan Jiu from behind and push her down the stairs, but usually Nan Jiu would ride on him and beat her. All these years had passed, and he had only grown taller, not smarter, and now he was still messing with Xiao Jiu.
Old Man Nan suddenly raised his voice to Nan Qiaoyu: "Didn't I tell you to sleep with me tonight? Why did you go to Xiaojiu's room?"
Nan Qiaoyu leaned over lazily and said, "I don't want to sleep with you. You smell like an old man."
Nan Jiu pursed his lips, glanced quickly at Old Man Nan, and stood aside watching the fire from the other side.
The teahouse suddenly fell into a suffocating silence. A few seconds later, Old Man Nan opened his eyes, and every word he said hit Nan Qiaoyu like ice shards: "Then you will sleep on the floor."
Nan Qiaoyu turned his face to the side, staring at the old man with his eyes slanted, his nostrils twitching with his breathing. "Grandpa, I'm your eldest grandson, the eldest grandson of the Nan family. When I came, you let me sleep on the floor, and Nan Jiu can have a room. Do you have to be so obvious about your partiality? I won't sleep on the floor. If you force me, I'll call my mom."
Nan Jiu's aunt was a notorious troublemaker in the family. Nan Qiaoyu's erratic behavior today was largely due to her mother's meticulous nurturing. Old Man Nan's head ached when he thought of his daughter-in-law. His original intention to pay off the second son's grievance against the eldest son was closely tied to the daughter-in-law's three-day, three-night disturbance in the teahouse.
Now that Grandpa Nan was old, he was powerless to maintain the harmony of his large family. He waved his hand and said to Nan Qiaoyu, "Go ahead and fight. Tell your parents to come and take you home tonight."
Nan Qiaoyu's face turned livid as he glared at Old Man Nan. Song Ting walked out from the counter and fixed Nan Qiaoyu with a glare. "My bed is yours. Put your things away and come up with me."
His tone wasn't one of negotiation, but of decision. Every word was filled with pressure, leaving no room for maneuver. Nan Qiaoyu had been making a scene all night, simply because he wanted a separate bed. Song Ting had resolved the issue, effectively depriving him of any reason to continue making a scene.
Old Man Nan raised his head and said to Song Ting, "If he sleeps on the bed, where will you sleep? You don't have to let him do what he wants."
"It doesn't matter where I sleep, so that's it."
Nan Jiu's eyes moved back and forth, and seeing that the matter was settled, she walked back to the side room, kicked Nan Qiaoyu's sneakers, sundries and suitcases piled on the floor out of the room, and slammed the door.
Seeing his prized sneakers being treated this way, Nan Qiaoyu stormed over to the side room, ready to pound on the door. Song Ting leaned over, blocking the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze lowered. The fabric of his shirt jutted out a clear, hard outline across his biceps.
Nan Qiaoyu's raised fist suddenly stopped, he withdrew his hand, squatted down, and stuffed the scattered things on the ground into the suitcase. The suitcase was piled high, with things crammed in a mess, and things kept falling out as they were stuffed in.
Song Ting couldn't bear to watch, so he grabbed the suitcase, roughly sorted the contents, and then arranged the remaining items on the floor. He closed the suitcase and carried it upstairs with one hand. Nan Qiaoyu followed behind, holding his limited edition sneakers.
Song Ting gave his bed to Nan Qiaoyu. He took out the quilt from the cabinet and spread it on the floor, making a simple bed on the floor in the room.
Nan Qiaoyu lay in bed, unable to sleep. He picked up his phone and played with it for a while. A chattering noise came out of the phone. The attic was already quiet, and even the slightest movement echoed clearly in the room.
"Turn it off." Song Ting's voice had a cold, metallic texture, like a bronze bell striking Nan Qiaoyu's ears, which frightened him so much that he locked his phone.
After turning off his phone, Nan Qiaoyu felt increasingly frustrated. Song Ting had nothing to do with him, so why should he listen to him? Nan Qiaoyu tossed and turned, then simply picked up his phone and decided to go out and play.
He had just stepped out of bed when a strong gust of wind struck him from the darkness. Before Nan Qiaoyu could react, someone grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him back onto the bed. He stared at the skylight, his back pressed against the mat, swallowing dryly, his heart pounding.
The contest between men does not require too many words. In the face of absolute crushing power, Nan Qiaoyu dared not act rashly again.
Nan Qiaoyu was still sound asleep that morning when her pillow and blanket were suddenly pulled away, and the air conditioner in the room was turned off. The summer attic was unbearably hot and stuffy, and it was unbearable to stay there even for a moment without the AC. Nan Qiaoyu was suddenly awakened by the heat, and sat up. Seeing that Song Ting had already packed up, folded the blanket and set it aside, he glanced at him and said, "Get up."
Nan Qiaoyu groaned inwardly. This was like military training. The only problem was that the instructor wouldn't stay by his bed at night. Song Ting was even more of a demon than the instructor.
Seeing Nan Qiaoyu getting up early to work, Old Man Nan was a little surprised and asked Song Ting, "Didn't you make any noise last night?"
Song Ting commented: "Very good."
"......" Nan Qiaoyu hid nearby, angry but not daring to say anything.
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